I’ve been listening to Black Sabbath and Ozzy nonstop since Tuesday.

It’s no overstatement to say that Sabbath and Ozzy were essential to my development as an individual person. While the world rushed to swallow every bit of teen pop and boy band drivel that major music labels hurled at them like swine at the trough, I found solace in the dark, heavy guitar riff-driven sounds of a band from Birmingham, England formed decades prior.

Sabbath was the first band I ever came to love completely on my own, without influence from either my family or friends, and one of two bands whose song tabs I printed out and obsessed over as if learning to hammer out Children of the Grave, War Pigs, and Snowblind on my Ibanez RG immediately were a matter of life and death.

Tons of bootleg albums, videos, every rare bit Napster had to offer, and many years later, finally culminated in catching the band live in Las Vegas on September 17, 2016, as part of their The End tour. That show remains one of the best damn things I’ve ever experienced.

RIP, Prince of Darkness. Thank you so much for everything.